


Skype

by TearStainedAshes



Series: Jumpers and Scarves [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom John, Fluff, Hair Pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Riding Crop, Sexual Content, Skype, Skype Sex, Spanking, Sub Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearStainedAshes/pseuds/TearStainedAshes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is called away to a medical conference. He and Sherlock have Skype chats while he's away. Smutty goodness ensues, and gets even more intense when John comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skype

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this post: moriartysinvisibleblade.tumblr.com/post/59266452968

Sherlock and John. John and Sherlock. Watson and Holmes. Holmes and Watson. 

They had always been a pair, one never too far from the other, seemingly being pulled together by an invisible and imaginary string. But now they weren't just a madman and a doctor anymore. Now they were a 'we.' They were, for all intents and purposes (and lack of a better term), a couple. And that scared Sherlock shitless. 

He'd never had a proper relationship before. The closest he'd come was probably trading sexual favours for drugs in his youth. He'd become rather skilled at giving oral pleasure during that time, and he was actually eager to show John. So he did, over and over and over again. John began returning the favour eventually, though his first effort was timid and unsure of himself. He learned quickly enough, finding the places that made Sherlock keen and whine; finding the right amount of pressure that made Sherlock grip the sheets (or sofa, chair, table, or any surface they happened to be by) tight until his knuckles looked like they were going to rip through his skin; and discovering just the right spot to pinch or press to send him over the edge. His legs would quiver in aftershocks of pleasure, his brain shutting down for a few minutes (ten if the orgasm was especially intense), and he revelled in the pleasure and quiet until he came back to Earth.  

They carried on like that for a couple months, both men either too scared or not ready to bring up the subject of penetrative sex. Sherlock was still technically a virgin in the sense that he'd never been penetrated, nor had he ever penetrated anyone else for that matter, so he was scared about having  _anything_  up his arse and he definitely wasn't ready. John never pressured him into trying, which Sherlock greatly appreciated. They'd experimented a bit with small dildos, but nothing quite the size or or thickness of either of their own cocks. Neither of them were quite ready for that. 

They'd only been together a couple months when John was called away for a medical conference. Sherlock, in his typical fashion, bitched and moaned until it was time for John to leave. 

'I'll only be gone five days, Sherlock,' John told his lover gently. He held Sherlock's face in his hands and ran his thumbs over his cheekbones. 'You'll be alright for five days, right?' 

'No,' Sherlock said, pouting. 'It'll be five days away from you. I won't be alright.' 

'Hey now.' John kissed the tip of Sherlock's nose. 'You're gonna be fine, love. You can text me all you want and I can Skype you when I get back to the hotel.' 

'It won't be the same,' Sherlock said, pouting again. 

'No. But it'll be enough.' John kissed Sherlock softly, the younger man humming and melting against him. A horn honked outside and John pulled away, Sherlock whining in protest. 

'Just five days, love,' John told him. He picked up his bags and looked back at his lover. He looked like a kicked puppy. John sighed and pulled him into a secure hug. Sherlock whined and hugged John tight. They didn't break apart until the cab honked again. Sherlock kissed John again, swiping his tongue along his lips to get one last taste. John chuckled and allowed it. 

'Five days, love,' he said again. 'I'll be back before you know it.' 

'Am I allowed to do experiments while you're away?' Sherlock asked quietly. 

'Yes,' John said, chuckling. 'Just don't blow anything up and no noxious or toxic fumes.' 

'I think I can work with that.' Sherlock grinned down at John and kissed him again. 

'I love you,' John said when they pulled away. 

'I love you too,' Sherlock replied, kissing John's nose. 'Skype later?' 

'I'll text you a time,' John said. 'Until tonight, love.' 

'Until tonight.' John kissed Sherlock again before leaving. He waved at Sherlock from the kerb, waiting until Sherlock waved tentatively back before climbing in the cab. Sherlock watched until the cab turned a corner, disappearing from sight. He sighed and slumped on the couch, turning his back to the room as he tried to ignore how empty the flat felt without John there. He grabbed John's favoured Union Jack pillow and cuddled it close, inhaling John's scent. He fell into a restless sleep with John's comforting scent all around him. 

**...::-::...**

The first day had been fine. It was just a dinner and allowed the guests to get used to the venue. John spent most of his time on the balcony attached to his room, enjoying the gorgeous weather while he could. He and Sherlock Skyped for a bit before John had to go to bed. Sherlock cuddled John's pillow in bed that night. 

The second day was loaded with conferences. John was completely swamped, absorbing as much information as he could. He fell into bed as soon as he returned to his room, being woken by Sherlock calling him in a panic a couple hours later. He assured his lover that he was fine, just exhausted, and promised to Skype him the following night. Sherlock didn't sleep that night. 

The third day only had a few conferences John was required to attend. He took a shower to help himself relax and sat down on his bed, still in his towel, and sent Sherlock a text. 

_Get on Skype. -JW_

John's laptop pinged, signaling he was receiving a video call. He pulled it onto his lap and hit the "accept call" button, Sherlock's face soon filling his screen. He was wearing just a sheet. 

'You're done early,' Sherlock said in greeting. 

'Only had three conferences today,' John explained. 'I thought you'd know that?' 

Sherlock blushed and glanced away. 'I hacked into the conference's schedule and found out which ones you'd be attending,' he admitted softly. 

John laughed and shook his head. 'Of course you did. You could have just asked me for my schedule though. I would have given it to you.' 

'Oh?' Sherlock looked back at the screen. 

'Yes,' John answered. 'It's alright to ask, love. That's perfectly fine. Hacking into the medical conference's website though? That's a bit not good. I'll have to spank you when I get home.' 

Sherlock perked up at that bit. He loved it when John spanked him. When his captain side came out and he would punish him with spankings and hair pulling. He loved it when John touched him period. But he especially loved John's intimate touches. He felt his face flush and his breath quicken. He didn't even realise John had moved the camera until he heard his lover call his name. 

John had watched Sherlock's reaction and knew he was hard beneath his sheet. He himself was hard too. His erection was poking out of the gap where his towel was wrapped around his hips. He wriggled out of the towel, jostling his computer in the process, and adjusted the webcam to focus on his lap. 

'Sherlock,' he said huskily. He saw his lover glance back at the screen and heard a sharp intake of breath. Sherlock's eyes widened as he gazed at John's cock. John chuckled and grasped the base, watching as Sherlock's breath hitched and he stared, unblinking, as John's hand slowly moved up his length. 

'Sherlock,' he said again. Sherlock blinked and swallowed, a small indicator that he was listening. 'Let me see you. I know you're hard. Let me see.' 

Sherlock nodded minutely and pushed the sheet off his shoulders. He angled his webcam down so it was aimed at his crotch and then opened the sheet to reveal his hard cock. John hummed appreciatively at the sight. 

'Don't just sit there, love,' he said huskily. 'Let me watch you pleasure yourself.' 

Sherlock nodded, unable to speak at the moment. His laptop jostled as he stood to find a better spot so John could see. He carried the laptop into the bedroom and got on the bed. He placed it by his feet and adjusted the webcam so John could see all of him. 

'This good?' he managed to ask without his voice cracking. 

'Yes,' John purred. 'Now touch yourself. I'll guide you along.' 

'I know how to wank, John,' Sherlock said, scoffing at the thought of being told how to do such a simple act. 

'That's not what I meant, you naughty boy,' John purred. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat when he saw Sherlock swallow. Dirty name calling always had a strong effect on Sherlock. 

'Come on, cock tease,' John continued. 'Let me watch you wank.' Sherlock whimpered and grasped the base of his cock, making it stand tall and proud despite it's slight curve. John purred and Sherlock's hand slid up to the head of his cock. 

'That's it, wanker,' John hummed. 'Faster. I want to see your prick weep for me.' 

Sherlock moaned and nodded. He licked his palm and grasped his cock again, his hand moving faster along his shaft. He and John let out moans simultaneously, John having begun pleasuring himself too. 

'John,' Sherlock whispered huskily. 

'Sherlock,' John moaned in reply. 'Fuck. I... oh god.' His face scrunched up and a soft cry escaped his lips. 

'You're close already,' Sherlock stated, a cheeky grin on his face. 'Does your cock miss my hot mouth? My dexterous tongue?' 

'Yes,' John moaned. 'Both. All. Yes. Fucking hell, Sherlock. Keep talking.' 

'You love it when I talk dirty,' Sherlock purred, his hand moving faster on his cock. 'Almost as much as I love when you call me names.' 

'Yes,' John moaned. 'I wish I was home so I could suck that gorgeous prick of yours into my mouth. I want to taste you on my tongue, smell your musk all around me, feel you cumming down my throat.' He grinned when Sherlock gasped and whimpered. 'You're about to cum right now. Let me see. Let me watch. Cum, Sherlock. Cum for me. Cum all over yourself. Cum.' 

Sherlock cried out as John's words sent him over the edge, his cock throbbing as he came in thick pulses over his abdomen and hand. John moaned in appreciation, watching Sherlock's face as he came, the expressions changing as he peaked and worked himself through the climax. John inhaled when his own orgasm began, a garbled version of Sherlock's name spilling from his lips as he came. 

Sherlock plopped down against the pillows and basked in the post-orgasmic glow. While it wasn't even close to the orgasms he had when John sucked him off, it was a very different experience wanking on camera. 

'This better not end up on the Internet,' Sherlock said when John let out a contented sigh. 

'I'm technologically inept, love,' John said, chuckling. 'I don't know how to post anything but blogs and photos online. And I wouldn't put this online even if I  _did_  know how. What we did was private and just between us. No one else get to see that.' 

Sherlock chuckled and nodded. 'Good. I don't want anyone else to know what your cumming face looks like.' 

John laughed. 'And I don't want anyone else to know what yours looks like either.' 

sherlock chuckled again and shook his head. 'Good. Let's keep our private lives private. As best we can anyway. The paparazzi have started following me around again.' 

'Well, you  _did_  come back from the dead,' John said. 'Granted, it was a while ago, but you're still pretty big news now that your detective business is booming once again. Just don't attack or provoke them unless they do it to you first.' 

'John, I haven't left the flat since you left,' Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. 'You really think I'd go out to face the idiotic world without you?' 

'No,' John said, laughing. 'You make a good point.' 

'Glad you understand.' Sherlock jostled the laptop as he reached for the flannel in the nightstand drawer and cleaned himself up. John wiped himself down with his towel and tossed it on the floor. 

'Please tell me you didn't put that flannel back in the drawer,' he said when Sherlock disappeared out of frame. There was a slight pause before Sherlock reappeared and answered. 

'No.' 

'Sherlock.' 

'It's on the floor.' 

'Show me.' 

'John.' 

'Sherlock.' 

The younger man groaned. He disappeared out of frame again and John heard the drawer open. He smirked triumphantly. Sherlock turned the laptop so John could see him drop the flannel onto the floor. 

'There. Satisfied?' 

'Yes. Now lay back down and tell me about your day. Got any new experiments going?' 

Sherlock grinned and sat back down on the bed and launched into a very detailed explanation of his latest experiment. John listened intently and asked all the right questions to keep Sherlock talking, his eyes sparkling and his face lighting up as he spoke of fingers being boiled and soaked in typical household products to see which ones dissolved the flesh quicker and more completely. It seemed a simple enough experiment, and at least it didn't involve blowing anything up or setting anything on fire. It was keeping Sherlock occupied, and that made John happy. 

'Sounds like it's keeping you busy,' John said after Sherlock had been talking for an hour. 'I'll let you go so you can get back to it. I'll see you in a couple days.' 

'Alright,' Sherlock said. 'I'll see you again soon. I can't wait for you to come home. Even with the experiment, the flat is boring without you here.' 

'I'll be back soon, love,' John promised. 'I love you.' 

'I love you, too.' 

'Don't forget to eat,' John inserted before Sherlock clicked END. Sherlock called him back immediately.  

'Mrs Hudson and I eat dinner every night,' he said matter-of-factly. 'She's prepared for this, John. And I eat because I know it makes you happy when I do.' 

'Good. Thank Mrs Hudson for me. I'm glad she's been getting at least one meal into you.' 

'I have toast in the morning,' Sherlock stated proudly. 

'Good, love.' John grinned at him. 'I'm glad you're eating. I'll let you go now. I'll talk to you tomorrow.' 

'OK. Goodbye, John. I love you.' 

'I love you, too.' 

**...::-::...**

Sherlock paced the floor as he waited for John to return. His mind raced indecisively. 

_I should have gone to the train station to meet him. John would have liked that. It would have made him smile. I love John's smile. I should have met him. No! I should stay here. The stupid paparazzi would expose our relationship if I went out and that would upset John and I don't want to upset John. I'll stay here. I'll kiss him when he comes in. We can order Chinese takeaway. But meeting him would have been more romantic!_

Sherlock cried out in frustration and slumped down on the sofa. He groaned in exasperation and buried his face in the cushion. He continued to groan until he heard a car pull up stop. He shot up and ran to the window. John was getting his luggage out of the boot of a cab. He glanced up at the windows and smiled brightly when he saw Sherlock. Sherlock grinned back and bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. John waved the cab off and grabbed his bags, walking into 221 Baker Street and up the stairs. 

Sherlock greeted John at the door like an excited puppy. He hugged him tight and peppered kisses all over his face. John laughed and dropped his bags so he could hug Sherlock back. 

'Miss me?' John asked jokingly. 

'You have no idea.' sherlock whined and pulled John in for a proper kiss. John hummed and kissed Sherlock back, their kiss passionate but not heated enough to start anything yet. John pulled away and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. 

'Help me unpack and then I'll make us tea,' he said. 

'Chinese or Thai for dinner?' Sherlock asked. 

'Chinese. I had Thai at the hotel last night.' 

'Alright.' Sherlock kissed John quickly and grabbed one of the bags on the floor. He carried it into their room and began putting the clothes away. John grabbed the last bag, leaving his messenger bag in the sitting room, and brought it into their room to put away it's contents. When they were done, John made tea and Sherlock ordered dinner. He got out his violin and played while they waited. 

'That's new,' John said as he poured the boiling water into two mugs. 'Your own?' 

'Composed it for you,' Sherlock mumbled before turning his attention back to the music. 

'For me?' John walked over, tea in hand, and listened more intently. The music was sad, yet upbeat and energetic. John didn't know how Sherlock could put so much emotion in his pieces, but then again he wasn't very good at expressing his feelings verbally just yet, so the music was his main outlet. John set the tea down and gently eased the violin down. The music stopped and Sherlock gave the instrument over to John. John put it in Sherlock's chair and turned the younger man to face him. Sherlock looked like a kicked puppy again. 

'You didn't like it?' he asked quietly. 

'I loved it,' John assured him. 'I always love the pieces you compose for me. I just wanted to give you something in thanks.' 

John pulled Sherlock into a hug before the younger man could ask. He wrapped his arms around his lover's lanky frame, wanting him to feel warm and secure and loved. He rested his ear to Sherlock's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Sherlock rested his cheek on John's head and hugged the smaller man back. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relaxing into John's arms. 

'I love you,' John whispered. 

'I love you, too,' Sherlock whispered back. John smiled when he felt the deep rumble in Sherlock's chest. They stayed like that until the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their dinner. 

'I'll get that,' Sherlock said, gently pulling away from John. John pecked him on the lips before sending him off to get the food. He grabbed his messenger bag and pulled out his laptop, putting it on the desk as well as the power cord. He then quickly grabbed the gift he'd bought Sherlock and hid it. His plan was to give it to him after dinner. 

Sherlock returned with the takeaway and grabbed plates and napkins. He began setting the table, putting their food on the plates and pouring wine into some wine glasses. John watched in awe and pride. Sherlock flushed and smiled at his lover. 

'I sterilised the table this morning,' he said in explanation. 'I was thorough. I promise.' John grinned and shook his head in disbelief. 

'You're amazing, you know that?' 

'It's been said from time to time.' Sherlock blushed harder and looked away. 

'Why so shy?' John asked. He moved closer and hugged Sherlock from behind, resting his cheek between Sherlock's shoulder blades.  

'I don't know,' Sherlock said honestly. He melted into the hug and sighed happily. 'You just make me feel like a blushing schoolgirl sometimes.' 

'I do?' John chuckled and hugged Sherlock tighter. 'Good to know I affect you like this. I'll have to exploit it.' 

'I look forward to it,' Sherlock purred, subtly rocking back against John. 

'That'll come later,' John moaned. He rocked back against Sherlock before pulling away. 'Now is the time for food.' He kissed the base of Sherlock's neck before moving to his chair. He sat and opened the chopsticks that came with their meal. Sherlock did the same and dug into his food. They ate in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company. When their dinner was gone, Sherlock raised his wine glass in a toast. 

'Welcome home, John. It's so good to have you back.' 

'It's good to be home, Sherlock.' They clinked glasses and finished what was left in them. They cleared the table and kissed when the dishes were in the sink and the rubbish in the bin. 

'Want to get a fire started and then change into pyjamas?' John asked. 'We can relax and unwind and go to bed soon after.' 

'Sounds great.' Sherlock pecked John on the lips before going to start a fire. John went into the bedroom to change, putting his clothes in the laundry hamper. He pulled on the shirt of Sherlock's he'd worn their first night together. Sherlock had insisted he keep it. It didn't smell like Sherlock anymore, but John didn't mind. It was something of Sherlock's that the younger man allowed him to have. He didn't bother with pants, merely pulling on his pyjama trousers and calling it good. He joined Sherlock in the sitting room. He was stoking the fire with a metal poker, the flames dancing and the embers burning hot. 

'Looks great, love,' he hummed. 'Go ahead and change. I'll maintain the fire out here.' 

'OK.' Sherlock smiled when he saw John in his shirt once more. 'You look lovely.' 

'Thanks. Now scoot. The quicker you change the quicker we can be cuddling on the sofa.' 

Sherlock nodded and dashed away to change. John moved the chairs out of the way and pushed the sofa in front of the fire. It was so similar to the night they'd first gotten together. John smiled at the memory and shook his head. They were idiots for not getting together sooner. But he wouldn't change anything for the world. He shook the memory away momentarily so he could move the present he'd bought to hid it under the sofa. He was curled up in a blanket by the time Sherlock returned. He plopped down next to him and wormed his way under the blanket, his head pillowed on John's good shoulder. John rested his head on Sherlock's and sighed, his eyes closing as he reminisced about their first night together. 

They sat there, cuddling on the sofa and wrapped up in John's favourite blanket, for a couple hours. The fire waned and eventually went out, but no man moved to get up and go to bed. John was playing with Sherlock's hair, Sherlock snoring softly, his head pillowed on John's lap. John didn't want to disturb him. He always looked so peaceful when he slept. He rarely got to see Sherlock while he slept. He was always so guarded, and John only ever got to truly see him when he slept. So he cherished the moment. He continued to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair, occasionally scratching his scalp to make Sherlock moan in his sleep. The younger man began to stir after he'd been sleeping for close to an hour. He nuzzled John's lap and hummed, butting his head against John's hand like a cat. 

'Hey,' he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep. 

'Hey,' John replied, twirling a curl around his finger. 'Have a nice nap?' 

'Yeah.' Sherlock yawned and turned onto his back so he could look up into John's face. 'You know I love it when you pet my hair?' 

'Yeah. I know.' John smiled and gently pulled on the curl. Sherlock groaned and tilted his head back. 'You love this more.' 

'Yes. I do. More. Please.' 

'With pleasure.' John grabbed more hair and pulled, Sherlock moaning loudly, his hips jumping. 

'Sit up,' John ordered. Sherlock complied instantly, falling easily into his submissive role. 'Against the back of the sofa.' Sherlock listened and waited for John's next order. John pulled harshly on Sherlock's hair, the younger man hissing in pleasure. His cock was already tenting his thin pyjama trousers. 

'Look at that,' John purred. He palmed the bulge in Sherlock's trousers and grinned. 'What is this, Holmes?' 

'My... my erection, sir,' Sherlock replied around a moan. He tried not to rut into John's hand, but it was bloody hard when John kept palming his erection. 

'Is that so?' John squeezed and Sherlock yelped, his hips jumping against his will. 'You remember how I told you I'd have to spank you when I came home?' 

'Yes, sir,' Sherlock panted out. 

'Do you remember what for?' 

'Yes, sir.' 

'Tell me.' 

'I... I hacked into the medical conference website.' 

'Yes you did, you bad, bad boy.' John squeezed Sherlock's cock again as he reached down for the present hidden under the sofa. 'Turn around and stick your bum out.' 

Sherlock complied, spreading his knees apart and draping himself over the back of the sofa so his bum stuck out in front of John. 

'Good man.' John hummed and stroked Sherlock's plush arse. It really was unfair how perfectly sculpted his bum was. Sherlock shivered under his touch. John pulled down his trousers and squeezed a cheek. Sherlock pressed into the touch. John chuckled and dangled the present in front of Sherlock's face. 

'Open it,' he said. Sherlock took the box and tore the wrapping off it. It was long and slender and the box felt like leather. He took the lid off and stared wide-eyed at the riding crop inside it. 

'Do you like it?' 

'Yes, sir.' 

'Take it out and give it to me.' Sherlock plucked the crop out of the velvet lining of the box. He inspected it briefly before passing it back to John. It was black leather, strong, sturdy, and would no doubt leave some bright welts on his skin. John ran the end of the crop against Sherlock's exposed buttocks, tracing down his cleft until it touched his sac. 

'Hold it there,' John said. Sherlock clenched around the crop, holding it in place. John stroked Sherlock's buttocks again and pinched. Sherlock jumped but the crop didn't fall. 

'Good boy,' John purred. He stood directly behind Sherlock and held a buttock in each hand. 'Now, how many spankings do you think would be a suitable punishment for hacking that website?' 

'As many as you deem fit, sir,' Sherlock answered. 

'Good choice,' John hummed. He grabbed the crop and pushed it against Sherlock's sac, the younger man moaning softly. 'I think ten with my hand and then ten more with the crop to start with.' 

'Yes, sir,' Sherlock moaned. John pushed Sherlock's knees a tad further apart and massaged the globes of his arse. 

'Count aloud,' John said just before the first spank landed. 

'One!' Sherlock cried, his head thrown back. John landed another blow and Sherlock called out the number. His thighs were quivering by the time they got to ten. John stroked the tender flesh gently before picking up the crop. 

'Keep counting,' John said as he trailed the crop over Sherlock's bum. Sherlock nodded and braced for impact. The first blow landed just below his arse at the top of his thigh. 

'Eleven,' Sherlock groaned out, hissing slightly. The next blow landed on his already tender skin. Sherlock cried out and whimpered. 

'T-twelve,' he choked out. The next blow landed on his other thigh. Sherlock groaned and pressed his forehead against the back of the sofa. 

'Thirteen.' The next three blows landed one after the other. Sherlock whined and gasped out the numbers fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen. His thighs were quivering so badly he could hardly stay up on his knees. The next blow hit his lower back. 

'Theventeen!' Sherlock screamed, his childhood lisp creeping up to haunt him. The last three landed slowly but within the same space of time of each other. Sherlock whispered the last three numbers and almost slumped down against the couch. The only reason he didn't though was because John hadn't given him permission to. 

'Good job, love,' John hummed. He put the crop down and propped Sherlock up a bit better. 'Do you want to cum now?' 

'Please,' Sherlock moaned. He forced his muscles to stiffen so he wouldn't fall down onto the sofa. John reached around and gripped Sherlock's cock, stroking until he felt it throb in his palm. He pressed his own clothed cock in the cleft of Sherlock's arse and rut against him. Sherlock whined and tilted his head back. John took the hint and grabbed a thick handful of his hair, tugging hard to keep his head back. Sherlock moaned and pushed back against John's cock. John stroked him faster, rut harder against him, and soon they were both cumming. Sherlock slipped down the sofa in a boneless heap, his muscles twitching from exertion. John groaned and cleared his throat before pulling away. 

'Wait here. I'll be right back.' Sherlock whined in reply. John disappeared to the loo and grabbed some soothing balm for Sherlock's sore arse. He returned and found Sherlock struggling to stay upright. He frowned and stood behind him again. He dipped his fingers in the cool balm and gently spread it on Sherlock's red arse. Sherlock sighed as the slight burning cooled and was soothed. John smoothed the balm all over Sherlock's arse and then pulled his trousers back up to cover his bum. 

'I'm gonna carry you to bed now, OK?' he said softly. 

'OK,' Sherlock mumbled in reply. John gingerly cradled Sherlock in his arms bridal style and carried him to bed. He laid him down on his side so he wouldn't lay on his back and possibly his sore bum. He changed into clean pants before he crawled in beside him and twined his fingers with Sherlock's. 

'Sorry if I got a bit rougher today,' he whispered. 'I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?' 

'I'm fine,' Sherlock mumbled. 'Ss not so bad. I'll be fine.' 

'You could have safeworded if I was hurting you.' 

'You weren't hurting me. Just sore. I'll be fine.' 

'You sure?' 

'Yeah. I'm going to be fine.' 

'OK.' John kissed Sherlock's forehead and sighed softly. 'Go to sleep, love. I'll take care of your arse in the morning.' 

'OK.' Sherlock yawned and nuzzled John's nose. 'Love you.' 

'Love you, too.'


End file.
